My Words My Bride
My words, my bride, myself, my all
on this our wedding night and me enthralled,
as magnetic currents pull me out to sea
taking me to quixotic islands that speak to me.
Into places go I to exotic jungles of intrigue
where she pulls me high up into her noble league.
Her words become my words in august soundings
of raptured intelligence in high surroundings.
Her charms wrap around my heart
pulling me in from the chasms of the dark.
Her smiles are words soaked in exotic perfumes
that fly me up and into heaven’s rooms.
Her arms are the wings of the angels in flight,
pulling me into the electric mazes of the night,
and I with my ears glued to her seductive words,
wish to remain in the poetic world of hers.
Her every word is a feathery thunder to my senses
that keep on tearing down my wooden fences
that I erected while I sat upon the shore,
dreaming about her like I always dreamt before.
Everything is new to me in this my exotic world
and her world that she brought to me unfurled,
where the words are doves that fly unencumbered,
a loosening up of the inhibitions that pulled me under.
Her phrases are rivers flowing into my own heart,
taking me on a thrilling ride from where we start,
when we first kissed under the full moon’s rising
as we listened to the night birds sing.
Up to now my glorious ride is ever so enchanting.
Her words are my words in their rhythmic planting.
I am a poet and a part of the quixotic world of hers
as I came to be a slave of her transcendent words,
words taking me to places I’ve never been.
